


Pilot

by LadyMonk



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action, Aliens, Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, M/M, Mech Pilots, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, VictUuri, code names, mech AU, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMonk/pseuds/LadyMonk
Summary: Banished to live below the surface after an unknown intelligent species invades Earth, humanity struggles to regain what they once lost. The Mech Program takes in any qualifying child and trains them to become bastions of hope for humanity. Names are replaced by numbers, but one can never truly forget who and what they are: human.





	1. The First of Many Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to write an AU like this. Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed and would like to see more! Hoping to have a second chapter up soon!

_It is considered a great honor for any family that has a child who qualifies for the Mech Program. Parents are supposed to look on with pride. Mine did not do well to conceal whatever they felt as I was pulled away from their side after I qualified. I knew that it wasn’t pride in their eyes, but worry._

_How could I possibly be a pilot? They didn’t say it out loud, but I knew that’s what they thought. They weren’t wrong to think it._

_After all, I’m nothing extraordinary. I didn’t come from a blue blood family whose children were nearly all qualifiers. I lived in the Slums--the heavily polluted lower half of the city where the average life expectancy was forty or lower. I basically lived half of my life already at age twelve. Children like me did not qualify for the Mech Program._

_Yet they still dragged me away, kicking and screaming as I reached out to desperately grasp for my mother’s touch. She flinched away. That was the first time my heart broke. I decided I’d never let anyone hurt me like that again--I’m not sure if I could handle it._

_Her face won’t leave my head. I know I’ll dream of it tonight._

**Entry 1**

\--

“Again!” The instructor commands in a shrill voice, cracking her baton against the wall to make sure all know. _Do not dare defy me._ The message sinks into Yuuri’s head quickly, and his heart skips several beats in fear.

The other trainees know too fast as well. They had all been on the end of that stick at one point. More stubborn trainees felt its bruising burn on multiple occasions. Once was enough for Yuuri.

He flexes as he’s told, breathes in deeply as he balances on the tips of his calloused toes. After two years of training he’s at the precipice of becoming a pilot and leaving the “Baton Witch” forever. All he has to do is pass his last examination.

His childlike softness had calcified into solid muscle that no longer complained when tested to extreme limits. He truly was cookie cutter when it comes to what a qualifier should look like.

Except there was one thing that the others didn’t do that Yuuri did on a nightly basis. While most breathe softly in their sleep, Yuuri could not find it in himself to rest. Tears always work their way to the surface, spilling out like an overfilled cup.

Were his mother and father thinking about him? Or had they forgotten that he’d even existed? Pilots were as good as dead the second they qualified. Daily each trainee is reminded that they are not children. They are soldiers fighting a war-- One that cannot be won without the help of ‘prodigies’ like himself. Their youth made it easy to mold them, to shape their malleable selves into warriors.

So far the Mech Program has worked. The human race has effectively halted their extinction for the time being. He was educated enough to know that that would all be temporary.

Yuuri’s generation was the first to not know what the world was like before the program. When he was young, he’d sit in the park with his parents. Too shy to go and make friends, Yuuri would ask them about what the world was like. Their smiles did nothing to hide the shadows in their eyes.

They would only laugh, waving a hand at their curious boy to dismiss him.

“Trainee Seventeen!” Yuuri’s eyes darting to the Instructor. Her green eyes blazed with an inferno of anger and she spun her baton. “Come with me.”

 _Oh no._ That was the only thought he could have as his number was called. He must have been too distracted to notice her commands, and now he is going to be punished for it.

“Twenty-six, come as well,” she barks, turning her back on them. “The rest of you-- Dismissed. Report to the mess hall for supper.” She waves a hand to beckon the two trainees from the crowd.

A pang of fear grips and strangles Yuuri like a vice around his throat. He looks to the other trainee, number Twenty-six. All the trainees go by numbers, told to forget their old names. They are a symbol of a pilot’s old life.

Number Twenty-six has his lips in a firm line. He is small, clearly a newer trainee. Blond hair reaches his chin, framing his face. His eyes, the color of an cave moss meet Yuuri’s searching ones. The trainee curls his nose up in mild disgust-- a warning. It makes Yuuri’s stomach twist in knots.

The Instructor says nothing as she leads the two trainees down a dark hall. Each step she takes sets off a light near the base of the floor, guiding them to wherever they’re going. Anxiety is cruel. Especially when it comes to Yuuri. He tries his best to hold back the churning in his core.

Twenty-six doesn’t seem at all bothered by the unknown. He fearlessly keeps up with the Instructor as she takes a sharp left turn. The two are not afraid to leave Yuuri behind.

That only makes Yuuri more anxious. He picks up his pace to make sure that doesn’t happen. If he’s lucky, the fear doesn’t show up on his face.

The Instructor stops at the edge of darkness. The lights do not turn on as she stands there. It only made the tension grow as she glares into the darkness, her lips stretched into a fine line.

She breathes in deeply. “You have a right to fear the shadows. If you do not, you are a fool who will crash and burn.” She doesn’t turn around as she continues. “Your lives will be filled with strife. Most days you will feel as if you are going to die. Do not let that thought linger, or you will be extinguished as quickly as you came into this world.”

“What is your point?” Twenty-six demands to know. The action makes Yuuri’s jaw slacken in shock. No one talked to the Instructor that way. Yuuri closed his mouth, biting his lower lip as his brows curved upward in worry.

“My point is that this world is cruel. You must complete the tasks ahead of you in this room without my assistance. Use each other’s minds for help. It is all you have. If you choose not to, that is ultimately your decision. This is your final examination. If you succeed, it means you become a pilot. If you fail,” she pauses and turns around to stare each boy dead in the eyes. It sends a chill up Yuuri’s spine. “If you fail you will die. Best of luck to you.”

When she walks by, she does so in between them. It splits them apart, leaving them both agape and wide-eyed with shock.

“W-wait!” Twenty-six shouts after her as she begins to walk back the way they had come. Lights followed her steps. “What is in there? Shouldn’t you at least tell us that?” Long blond bangs fall into his face, covering one eye. “You can’t just say something that vague and expect us to just accept it. Especially when our lives are at stake here! You bitch! You’re setting us up for failure!”

The Instructor pauses. “You will know what to do when you walk into the darkness. Don’t stand here too long. It’s not safe.”

Yuuri lets out a shuddering breath as she disappears into the darkness, throwing a hand up to his mouth. He can hardly breathe, let alone think. Could he be dead within the next few seconds?

Pain shoots through his arm as he stumbles backward, dazed and blinking. He lets out a strangled yelp. The familiar feeling of tears bubble to the surface.

“Oi, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter,” Twenty-six scolds sharply. “We have to get in there.”

“But it’s dark,” Yuuri says in a hoarse whisper.

Blue-green eyes roll into the back of Twenty-six’s head as he grabbed Yuuri by the arm, practically pulling him into the shadows. “Like hell I’ll die because you can’t carry your weight,” he snaps.

The darkness shrouds them like a hooded cloak. Yuuri didn’t have much breath left in his lungs to begin with. The creeping fear that gripped him now was nothing compared to it. Something was wrong with this room. Something terribly wrong.

If Twenty-six noticed that, he didn’t say anything. He just kept going, trudging forth into the emptiness with a burning determination.

There was a creak behind them followed by a loud crash. Both boys turned around sharply on their heels, eyes going wide as they realized that they’d been locked in. Twenty-six runs to the new wall, slamming his fist against the metal in confusion.

All Yuuri can do is stand there trembling like a leaf. How he was chosen for this, how he qualified-- It was beyond him at this point. He frequently questioned it. This wasn’t something he could do. He felt a great deal of shame. Cowards had no place in the Mech Program. This was his end point. Here he would die. He hopes that Twenty-six will make it though. There was something in the eyes of the blond’s that Yuuri lacked.

The hum of static made the black haired boy turn, blinking in confusion as he adjusted his glasses. A projector came to life, lighting up the back wall.

“Um.”

Twenty-six is still banging his fist against the door, screaming at it in a language Yuuri can’t understand.

“Twenty-six?” Yuuri interrupts.

“What?” The boy spits, halting his punching. “They locked us in here and-” He stops as his eyes catch what Yuuri had been looking at. “What the hell… When did that come on?”

“Just now,” Yuuri answers blinking in confusion. He nearly jumps out of his skin as images begin to flash.

“Congratulations on making it to your final exam, trainees,” A voice fills the room from a speaker hidden somewhere. “Four decades ago the human race was nearly brought to extinction. Just a few years prior to the event, our ambitions to progress our knowledge of space travel led us to send out a communication signal.”

Yuuri has heard this story before, but it still makes him uneasy, he looks to Twenty-six, who for once seems unsettled. “What we didn’t expect was for our call to be answered. NASA could hardly believe when they heard the static filled answer to our greeting, our welcome. Our coordinates in the solar system were attached to the signal. We looked forward to greeting our first extraterrestrial guest. No one could have guessed what would happen next.”

“They came to our world. We welcomed _Them_ humbly,” The way she strains the word out does not hide her anger. “Eager to meet face to face, to see what our universe had to offer. That is when the Blackout started. Everything went dark across the world. They isolated us from one another, kept us in the dark. And then they attacked.” A woman’s figure flickers into form on screen, and she seems absolutely torn. She’s older, likely in her seventies. “They used a technology we hadn’t seen before, a machine like a jet but much stronger. They were equipped with powerful weapons capable of toppling skyscrapers and murdering thousands in mere minutes. It was nothing we could fight against. Billions died. Governments collapsed. Humanity had no choice but to come together to fight against a common enemy. Those who didn’t were wiped off the planet. The United Nations hastily passed a paper to bring all humans to a rendezvous point. An underground city was created, the remnants of humanity flocked there to start anew.”

She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes for several seconds as she let out a breath. “It worked. Humanity was preserved beneath the surface of the Earth. For a few years we trembled beneath the surface like worms--” She grits her teeth. “Meanwhile our invaders thrived on the surface. They wiped our history away. It was like we were never even there. We were naive to believe that anything less could happen if one just took the time to examine our own history. We should have known.” She opens her eyes, and she is holding back tears. “And then we fought back in the only way that we could. We could not build the technology to fight back against Them. We could not build the Mechs that they used to destroy our world.”

Twenty-six’s eyes grow wide when he realizes, and Yuuri’s do as well. “But we could take them,” Twenty-six says, breathing the words out in a whisper.

“We could commandeer their technology. We could steal their mechs and make them our own. In training you learned how they functioned. You learned what technology they were equipped with and how to take it apart and dismantle it. Your final examination is to go to the surface and hijack a mech from one of Them. If you are unsuccessful, you will die. If you succeed you will still need to take out the GPS device so your suit cannot be tracked. To your left there is a door that leads to the surface. Just before the ladder is a chest of equipped with all the supplies you need to complete this mission. Best of luck to the both of you, and may you live to see Earth as it once was.”

The room darkens again. They’d heard it before, the history. But they’d never known that the origins of the mechs actually came from the enemy-- from Them.

“Great, I’m stuck with a coward for the most dangerous mission,” Twenty-six spits, climbing up the stairs to the left and opening up the door to a small room. “Is this my punishment? Aren’t I supposed to be the one who’s scared?” The blond curtain of hair sways as he shakes his head in disgust.

“I’m trained too!” Yuuri shouts in his own defense. “I don’t think I am being unreasonable when I say I’m scared. I’m terrified! Going to the surface,”  Yuuri cuts himself off when he bites his lower lip. No one has been to the surface-- No one who isn’t a pilot at least.

Twenty-six only grunts in reply, reaching for the chest filled with equipment. He pulls out two suits, tossing one to Yuuri who just barely catches it. The blond rolls his blue eyes in exasperation. He sifts through the chest, pulling out all kinds of gadgets from bands that go around the wrists to holsters for the two pistols that lay on the bottom.

Yuuri works on putting on this new suit. It’s skin tight from the neck down with several ports for the gadgets and has a hood. He lets out a huff, grabbing onto the gadgets and installing them in their proper places. He grabs a pistol, testing its weight before slipping it into the holster at his waist.

When both boys are fully equipped they simply stare at the ladder leading to the surface. It looked like it would take awhile to get there.

“Seventeen.”

Yuuri looks up from the GPS wristwatch, blinking wide brown eyes at Twenty-six. “Yeah?”

“It’s time to go,” Twenty-six says, grabbing onto the first rung of the ladder. “Better to get a grip of our surroundings out there before we go making a plan.” He begins pulling himself up, scrambling up the ladder like an agile squirrel.

Yuuri swallows the lump in his throat and begins to follow behind. The world he’s been so curious to see is so tantalizingly close. He’s read some books on it while in Qualifier’s training. He wondered about clouds and weather, about what it’d be like to taste dry air in his lungs. He wondered about sunlight and starlight. All of that was so close.

It made his hands shake with both excitement and fear.

Twenty-six stops holding onto the last run with one hand. He reaches to the circular door, about to open the hatch to who knows what kind of place.

“Wait, Twenty-six!” Yuuri shouts.

“Shush! You’ll get us caught,” Twenty-six says in a hushed whisper.

“Sorry, it’s just that we should put on our hoods first before we go into the light.”

Twenty-six huffs, knowing that his ally is right. He lets go of the hatch handle and pulls his hood up. A tinted visor protects his face.

Yuuri does the same with his own hood and the interface comes up with his vitals and options. His heart beats faster when Twenty-six grabs the hatch’s handle again. It twists with a creak and then opens. For a moment Yuuri can see that he’s baffled by whatever is up there because it takes a second for Twenty-six to climb out of the hole. Yuuri follows too eagerly, shutting the hatch behind him.

Twenty-six is standing stock still with his back to Yuuri with his hands up, palms facing those surrounding him.

They’re unmistakable. It'd be foolish to misplace them. Pulse energy gatling guns are on either side of the glass hull. No matter how hard you tried you could not see into its depths to find a figure within. Arms on either side are used to grab and melee attack, jets and fins are for flight. They're surrounded on all sides by Mechs.

Yuuri can't help but wonder if this is how he dies. With trembling arms he casts his gaze downward, doing everything to lift his hands into the air. It would be pointless. From what Yuuri had learned They took no hostages. It all ended before it even began. He waited for his death.

The death that never came.

The suits of the mechs opened with a hiss. Yuuri didn’t have the heart to look up. Not until he heard a voice-- One smooth and soothing with an accent he’d not quite heard before.

“Sorry for the scare, friends,” he says as he pulls his mech suit’s hood down, shaking silver locks of hair out of his face and smiling. “Did you really think we’d let the government decide how your last task was completed?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, at a loss for words. _Is this really happening?_

Twenty-six is the first to say something afterward. “W-who the hell are you?” He tries not to stutter, but everyone knows he’s unnerved by their presence.

The pilot with silver hair gives a simple smile, bangs hiding one half of his face. His blue eyes glint with an air of danger. “I’m Pilot Twelve, and you’re coming with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification Twenty-six is Yuri Plisetsky!   
> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it! Positive feedback typically leads to more chapters!


	2. The Task at Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop writing this. May my wrists forgive me for what I've done.  
> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!

_They work me until I can hardly breathe. I feel like I’m going to die. But I won’t let myself go. I won’t let myself succumb to their trials. I’m getting stronger every day. My muscles are solid, and I feel like liquid when I move. My days in the slums have already hardened me. No one here is as capable as I am. No one here is strong enough to make it like I will. I’ll live to see a mech in person. I’ll live to see the surface as it once was. I’ll live to the day I take it back from Them. And then I will spit on this program and the people who made it._

**Entry 2**

\--

Those captivating blue eyes lock onto Yuuri’s, even with a hood on Twelve knows that Yuuri’s eyes are on him. Yuuri can feel his face heat up with embarrassment as he averts his gaze away from Twelve’s.

Twelve lets out a soft laugh. “Fourteen, take this one. Your mech is big enough.” He says, pointing at Twenty-six. “I’ll take the other. Return to prior coordinates.”

“Whatever you say, Twelve,” Fourteen says in a light-hearted voice. He has an upper class accent. Likely born and bred to pilot.

Yuuri’s feet are rooted to the ground. He watches Twenty-six walk off with Fourteen. This was all happening way too quickly.

A hand on his shoulder made Yuuri suck in air sharply, jumping in fear. “Come on, don’t be afraid. You’ll get your mechs in time,” Twelve’s voice is close. He offers Yuuri a smile and guides him away to the looming mech. It has its fair share of battle scars. Old wounds are practically burned across the machine’s surface.

The mech is about fifteen feet tall, but only six feet wide with a narrow core. It’s colored red, black, and gold, the main color being black. It matches Twelve’s suit. The back opens as Twelve approaches it, climbing up the installed pegs along the mech’s leg. He hangs on with one hand, leaning outward as he turns to Yuuri. “Hope you’re not claustrophobic. It’s kind of a deal breaker when you’re a pilot.” Twelve climbs into the hull.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” Yuuri says. He’s still confused about everything that just happened. He steadily climbs into the mech, and he’s nearly pressed right against the other pilot. He’s never been one for physical contact, and he tries to hold back just how uncomfortable he is. It’ll be over soon. The back of the mech shuts behind him.

Twelve’s fingers glide over controls, flicking switches as the mech hums to life. It’s amazing how coordinated he is, how practiced of a pilot. He wonders how long Twelve has been doing this. “Hold on,” Twelve says as he grabs the steering sticks, clutching them and pulling back hard.

Yuuri lets out a yelp as he nearly falls backward until he grabs onto Twelve’s shoulders, clutching onto him with all of his strength. Twelve flinches, but his flight path doesn’t falter.

None of it matters, none of the closeness or the nearly crashing into the back of the mech. Nothing does because Yuuri is _flying_.

Twelve is leading the the flock of five mechs, Yuuri can tell because none of the others are in sight. There’s nothing but clouds and blue sky. Yuuri furrows his brows in confusion at Twelve, who still isn’t wearing his hood.

“How can you see?” Yuuri asks. Humans who were born beneath the surface weren’t used to sunlight without protection, and even with it it was still hard for Yuuri to see.

Twelve doesn’t respond for awhile, focusing on piloting the mech. He knits his brows together, scrunching his face up. “You get used to it,” Twelve explains. He reaches over to a switch, flicking it on. “Fourteen, what’s the status with your greenie?”

“He’s coming on nicely, asking plenty of questions about the mech. It’s adorable, really,” Fourteen answers in a doting tone. “He’s almost as young as you were when you first started flying, Twelve! Just a fledgling.”

“What’d you say, asshole?!” A voice interrupts in the background.

“Just adorable. A lot of fire,” Fourteen hums his approval.

Twelve lets out a joyful laugh, shaking his head as he checks his map system and adjusts his path accordingly. It’s all very natural, and Yuuri feels like he doesn’t belong. “That is exciting. Can’t wait to see what he has to offer us.”

“We shouldn’t be talking so much over the communications system. This isn’t an emergency.”

“Aw, come on Eleven, it’s just a bit of fun. Don’t be so stiff,” Fourteen’s voice crackles.

“Sadly, Fourteen, Eleven is right. My apologies for contacting you. The last thing we need is One hearing us out on our little excursion. He’s already pissed about Sixteen and Eighteen.”

After that the communications systems go dark. Twelve flicks off the switch and looks over his shoulder at Yuuri. His smile catches Yuuri off guard, who had forgotten that he’d been holding onto Twelve with a death grip.

“What number are you?” Twelve asks. “We all have numbers, you know that already.”

“Seventeen,” Yuuri answers.

“Well, Seventeen. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yuuri nods, looking out the window as what had to have been clouds passed by. Droplets of moisture stuck to the glass hull. “Are you in charge?”

Twelve just snorts. “I wish. If I were things would be a lot easier. The others just respect me and know enough about their own struggles. One is officially in charge. He’s like a father to me. When Eleven and I qualified he watched over our training and practically handpicked us to be the first ones for the mission. That was about five years ago.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide. “How old were you?”

“I’d just turned thirteen.”

“What? You hadn’t had training for even a year?”

He hums acknowledgement. “We’re almost there. You’re going to like it, Seventeen.”

He takes the mech downward, and all Yuuri can see is a vast expanse of water. The waves roll, rocking the surface. It’s so blue, bluer than the sky above. Twelve’s mech dives below the surface, and that blue crashes all around them. The water swallows them whole, and Yuuri feels his breath hitch.

The sunbeams dance, reaching out like kind hands to guide them as the mech pushes through the water. Yuuri can hardly believe what he’s seeing. It’s so beautiful, so captivating. It was easy to forget his old home-- and certainly easy to forget the “Baton Witch”. There are things lurking, swimming around in the depths to hide behind rocky outcrops down below. He can’t help but wonder how deep it goes.

He doesn’t even notice Twelve’s beaming smile as they travel down further and further. The light of sun disappears as they delve deep. And then they push forward. Yuuri can see the other mechs, but only because of the lights on the front that reflect the front of the machines. He wonders how Twenty-six is handling it.

They approach a massive object that looks kind of like a rock, but there was an entrance carved in a way that was definitely man-made. Twelve weaved into the space. The only light came from Twelve’s mech, but he probably didn’t need it as he expertly cut corner after corner until finally they breached the surface of the water.

It dropped around them, cascading down upon the floor beneath them. The legs of the mech were stocky at best, carrying them at a definite slower pace than from swimming and flying, but it was still faster than being on foot.

They park at the very end, beside another stationary mech with the number “One” on it. The power cuts out as Twelve flicks a few switches. He didn’t even need to look to know where they were.

 _I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve driven a mech for five years._ Yuuri thought to himself. The backend of the mech opens, and Yuuri is almost too grateful to get out. He knows why he had to do so many flexes and stretches with the Instructor--the mech’s were not made for those who weren’t flexible or capable of keeping in a trying position for a long period of time.

Twelve hits the ground after Yuuri does. He opens his arms, stretching them high in the air and leaning to the side. “Home awaits. Let’s see how angry Yakov is when we get in.” He snickers and stands straight, lightly jogging to catch up with the others who were already grouping up. He stops just as he gets there, turning on his heel and beckoning to Yuuri with the wave of a hand, who is still shocked about, well, everything.

The only thing that confused Yuuri-- Who is _Yakov?_

“Come on, Seventeen! We’re going to some _official_ greetings when we get inside.”

Yuuri learns that Yakov is Pilot One. He’s an older man with a gruff face, as if set to a frown by default.

He’s folding his arms as all the pilots sit at the table with grim expressions. “I told all of you after the other two got here not to go out like that again. They will fail if they don’t learn how to do it themselves.”

The only one who doesn’t seem like he’s bothered is Twelve. In fact, he seemed to be absolutely grinning. “Yakov, we’ll talk about this later. What’s done is done, yeah?”

“You’re soft, Viktor,” Yakov says with a disapproving shake of his head. “Welcome, you two.” That’s the last thing he says before exiting the room.

The silence keeps for several seconds before Twelve claps his hands together, that cheerful grin still on his face. “Don’t mind him. He’s just upset because I’ve basically rewritten the rules for the final examination. It’s not as if it’s hurt humanity--We have more pilots because of it. Pilots that succeed and live to fight for the world. Now, who are you?” He says, eyes darting to Yuuri.

Yuuri swallows the lump in his throat. “Um, I’ve told you. I’m Sevente-”

“Not your number, your _name._ The one given to you by your parents. Don’t be afraid.” Twelve leans closer from across the table. “We all have one. I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri blinks rapidly, confused. He wondered if he’d still perk up like he used to when he heard his old name. Seventeen had been his new one for so long, for years now. It feels odd when it comes out. “I-I… I’m Yuuri Katsuki.” Yet somehow it felt so _right._

“Welcome, Yuuri,” The name rolls off of Viktor’s accented tongue nicely. All Yuuri does is nod. “It’s going to be okay,” Viktor adds reassuringly, giving him a nod of confirmation. Yuuri smiles weakly, doubting.

“Who are you?” He turns his attention to Twenty-six, who already seems like he’s made this new place his home, but there seems to be something bothering him.

“Yuri Plisetsky, number Twenty-six,” he states. He’s glaring daggers at Yuuri.

“How funny! You two both have the same name. What a coincidence.” Viktor seems to find the whole ordeal pretty entertaining.

“That’s going to be pretty confusing,” Fourteen says, his elbows on the table as he rests his chin on one hand.

“Don’t be silly Chris, their names are their names. We’ll just have to manage it. Besides Yuuri has a longer vowel, you have to really roll it off your tongue.” He gestures to Yuuri, who seems a bit embarrassed about being called out.

“I’m Phichit Chulanont!” Pipes in one boy from the far end of the table. “My number is Eighteen. I only got here a few weeks prior to you guys. This is Otabek Altin, he doesn’t like to speak much. His number is Sixteen.” He points to the boy beside him, who has a serious look of contemplation on his features.

“I’m Christophe Giacometti, please feel free to call me Chris. I’m also Pilot Fourteen--but only on the field.” Christophe gives them all a kind smile and a wink.

“Georgi Popovich, Eleven.” He was the pilot whom had spoken over the communicator to silence the conversation. His face definitely matched his expression, seriously set.

The next pilot stood up, rocking the table as he did. “I am Jean-Jacques Leroy! A.K.A. JJ, A.K.A. Pilot Fifteen, the fastest in the fleet! If anyone here wants to protest that they can take me in a race!” He seems satisfied when no one challenges him. Everyone else seems used to it. “What? No one? Aw, I was hoping.” Disappointed, JJ takes his seat once more. “When is dinner?” He says after a long silence.

Viktor smiles softly at their little crew, though small they were growing. “Dinner should be ready soon. I think Yakov went to prepare it. He knows better than to leave a horde of teenage boys without dinner.”

“That I do,” Yakov grunts as he passes through the door. “Serve yourselves in the kitchen. Don’t take more than your serving-- We weren’t given enough rations to serve four extra mouths so I had to adjust portions. Also I am not doing your dishes again.”

Viktor laughs, waving a hand at Yakov as he stands up. “Of course, of course.”

Everyone floats into the kitchen. It’s the smallest one Yuuri has seen since leaving his home, barely able to fit the eight boys. Plastic trays are laid out, each one filled with only a little bit of food in each spot. They’re neat about how they do things, each taking one and then heading straight out of the kitchen one after the other. When they were all seated at the table they dug in.

It wasn’t much food, that was for certain. Yuuri was fed much more at the training facility. He held back his disappointment, though. He wouldn’t let it be seen, not after Viktor and the others rescuing him from what likely would have been a suicide mission.

He can’t help but wonder when they’ll get their mechs.

“So, what’s the plan?” Yuri says before Yuuri can form the words. “I mean, about us getting our mechs. If we’re not going to be sent on a suicide mission, then obviously you have an idea of what the hell we’re going to do? Because we can’t just sit here and do nothing. I was trained to be a pilot, not sit around and eat half a meal.”

Viktor raises a hand as Yakov nearly stands up to beat some sense into the disrespectful boy. It stops Yakov, but only barely. For not being in charge, Viktor sure was granted a lot of respect.

“Our plan was actually going to be enacted in the night. Though I suppose it’s fair that you know the details. Sorry to give you such short notice.” He offers Yuri a slight smile. “The fleet has gone on many flight missions since Otabek and Phichit arrived here a few weeks ago. Last week we formed a solid plan. One of Their bases has minimal security--shockingly. They seem to have grown lax since they haven’t had their mechs stolen in a few years. This isn’t just beneficial for all of you. There’s plenty of mech power cells in those bases. We’ll take those as well. It seems solid. So far. Each of us are going to carry one of you except for Yakov. Yakov is going to open the way for us to get inside. He will cover us when their security comes. The plan is to drop you beside each of the mechs so you can take them quickly. Meanwhile we’re to stand guard over you while you each uninstall the GPS trackers They have already in place. Should be a piece of cake.”

Except it didn’t sound like a piece of cake. It made Yuuri drop his fork. It is a lot easier than actually doing it for themselves, but the threat still existed. It could be a trap. A base that open, mechs just sitting there ripe for the taking?

Yuuri didn’t like it. He couldn’t find it in himself to finish his dinner, and JJ seemed more than eager to take it from him when he offered it up.

Viktor leads both Yuuri and Yuri to two empty rooms.

Yuri is almost too eager to push past the both of them, jumping into the first room shown. He immediately makes himself at home and shuts the door behind him with a slam. The distinct click of a lock was the last thing Yuuri and Viktor heard before complete silence.

Viktor blinks. “Well he’s certainly going to be fun to work with,” he sighs, beckoning Yuuri over as they walked a short distance to the next room. “Get some sleep, and don’t worry about it, alright?”

Yuuri nods, but he feels like everything in him is numb, empty. Viktor’s hand on his shoulder makes him bring their gazes together.

“I mean it, don’t worry. You have myself and the others to protect you. We’ve been pilots for years facing Them without any further help. Rest easy. When the time comes you’ll know what to do.”

Somehow, even with the complete sincerity in Viktor’s voice and expression, Yuuri is still feeling like they’ll fail. He dips his head in a nod, stepping back from Viktor’s touch. He wonders why the other is so physical. “Thank you… And, sleep well.”

The door shuts with a light click. He doesn’t bother to lock it. Steadily, he walks to his bed and strips down. As he crawls beneath the covers, he takes off his glasses. The mattress is springy, and the pillows feel like they’re flat as a board. It would do.

He spends most of his time tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. Sleep eventually found him, but not too long after a knock interrupted. Yuuri practically jumped up, hand fumbling in the darkness to grab his glasses.

“Wake up, it’s time to go.” It never really mattered what time they woke at, but it was best to do so when they had the advantage of darkness on their side. Because of their time in the underground, the pilots had an adapted sense of sight in the darkness.

A fist slams into the door. “Wake up, dumbass. Do you want to do this or not?” Yuri’s voice is harsh and cutting. Yuuri figured that it wouldn’t get much better than this with the blond boy.

He’s ready in minutes, stepping out of the door. By the looks of it, Yuri has been ready for a while now. He’s leaning against the wall just outside Yuuri’s door with a look that could practically kill anyone.

“Sorry, am I late?” Yuuri says, fixing the hood on his suit.

“No, but you’re damn close,” Yuri snaps, already heading out. Yuuri finds it easier to just follow rather than argue. “Viktor said to meet them in the Mech lot. We’re discussing the modified roles now that you and I have arrived.”

They pass through the dining room and then the common room. Yuri throws open the door to the lot. The sound echoes throughout the vast cavern.

Yuuri looks up, wondering just how high the ceiling went up.

The group is waiting for them, Viktor’s at the head, a finger on his lips as he seems to be working out the plans with the other pilots. His eyes find Yuuri nearly immediately as they approach the group. Viktor gives Yuuri a nod, only for him. It was a reminder of what he’d said hours prior.

“Okay, so I’ll take Otabek,” Georgi says. “I’m the slimmest one here after Viktor, who is insistent that he’s taking Yuuri.”

“I’m taking Yuuri,” Viktor reiterates. “There’s no negotiating that.”

“Tactically it’s not the best option--”

“It _is_ the best option if you want to delve into tactics, Georgi. I’m taking Yuuri. I highly doubt our mission will hinge on the amount of space there is between a temporary sharing of the mech,” Viktor interjects. His determination makes Yuuri shift uncomfortably where he stands. “That is that.”

Yakov huffs and shakes his head, not willing to involve himself in the argument the two senior pilots are having.

“I’ll take Phichit, and JJ can take Yuri Plisetsky,” Christophe says, nodding thoughtfully. “The only person who can fit with JJ would be Yuri.”

“Is that a callout?” JJ offers Chris a grin.

“If it were you wouldn’t have to ask,” Chris teases, reaching up to pat JJ’s cheeks. “Now let’s get to it. We’re wasting the night bickering over Viktor’s new favorite project.”

Yuuri’s cheeks flare up. Is that what this was. Viktor just lets out a short breath of laughter before heading to his mech. He beckons to Yuuri, who follows with uncertainty in his steps. The others break off as well.

Viktor climbs into his mech, powering it up before Yuuri is inside. The back end closes behind him just as Yuuri gets situated. He flicks the communication switch on. “From here on out we use our numbers.”

“Copy that, Twelve,” Chris answers.

“Can I get a ready check on all active units?” Yakov’s voice is as serious as always. He demanded no nonsense, and that is what he got respectively.

“Eleven and Sixteen are clear.”

“Twelve and Seventeen are clear,” Viktor says into the system after the last blip of static from Georgi’s message.

“Fourteen and Eighteen are clear.”

“Fifteen and Twenty-six are perfect as they can get! Well, mostly Fifteen.”

Viktor shakes his head as JJ’s voice fills the system, nearly speaking over the end of Christophe’s message.

“Pilot One is all clear and ready to take point. Fall out in intervals after eight marks.” The lights of the mechs fill the cavernous room. Yuuri strains to see the ceiling through the uppermost part of glass.

He was nearly caught off guard as they lurched forward. Yuuri did his best to cling to Viktor again without getting too close. They fell out behind Yakov’s mech, walking on two legs for now. They waded through the water before the legs lifted up slowly. Once again they swam like fish, working their way through the darkness.

At night, the water had a much different appearance. There were no beams of light. Nothing but darkness.

In no time they breached the surface, each mech following one after the other. The starlight of the moonless night sky reflected down on the surface of the water, distorting the image as ringed ripples spread outward with each mech’s ascendance.

They took flight without any lights, but it seemed as if they were perfectly aware of where they were. Viktor took the right wing of Yakov’s mech, and like a flock of birds he led them outward into the darkness in a ‘V’ formation.

“It’ll be awhile before we arrive. This outpost is particularly far away from where any of Their outposts are. We like to keep our distance if we can. We’d rather have them not see where we’re coming from. It’s just easier that way,” Viktor explains to Yuuri.

“I see,” Yuuri mumbles curtly. After all, what else could he say? He found himself questioning once more what he was doing out here. Why had he been chosen to pilot.

“I bet I can guess what you’re thinking,” Viktor says after the silence becomes too unbearable for him. Yuuri misses it.

“I suppose you can go ahead and try,” Yuuri answers, if only to entertain the silver-haired pilot.

“You’re wondering why you were chosen for this,” Viktor looks over his shoulder briefly to catch Yuuri’s shocked expression.

“How did you know?”

“I used to have the same thoughts, at first. I think it’s something all of us ask ourselves when we qualify. What did we do to get ourselves in this position? How is this our destiny? What is in us that is not in others?” Viktor puts his gaze back on the clouds.

“It’s all I think about lately,” Yuuri admits, casting his gaze downward. There are _trees_ down there. He can see their canopies sway in the night wind.

“Well stop,” Viktor commands. “Just don’t question it. If you question it, you doubt yourself. If you doubt yourself you can get yourself or others killed. Or maybe everyone. You have to at least pretend to be confident when you’re on a mission like this.”

“Is that why you wanted to pair up with me? To tell me this?” Yuuri asks, knitting his brows together. “It’s not as if this started after I qualified for the program. It’s something I’ve always done. I’ve always doubted myself. How can I qualify when it’s all I do?”

“I can’t answer that, Seventeen. I wish I could tell you why any of us qualified. It’s the biggest question a pilot has. We want to know why we were chosen for this, but it’s something we will never know. It’s best to drop it.”

“I see,” Yuuri whispers, his voice leaving him. He wasn’t made to argue. Viktor, however, seemed to know everything. Behind those eyes as blue as the sky were all of the answers that Yuuri desperately wanted--no, _needed._

Yet he could not have them. Not yet, at least. He needs to experience them on his own. Who says the truth for Viktor will be the truth for himself?

What feels like an hour passes by without either one of them speaking. Yakov’s voice interrupts the silence on the communication system. “Coordinates in sight. Sky is clear. Ready to drop in twenty marks.”

Those twenty seconds go by as if they were several hours. Yuuri’s hard feels like it is trying to jump out of his chest.

“Seventeen!” A voice snaps. Viktor’s. “Calm down. Take a deep breath. Remember your training. Do everything they taught you. Do not forget it.”

“Three.”

“Get ready!”

“Two.”

“Just breathe.”

“One.”

The back of Viktor’s mech opens and Yuuri is out fast as lightning. It just reaches the bottom. Yuuri’s not even halfway down the ladder before the hatch closes. No turning back.

Yuuri makes a break for it. Viktor’s given him a lot of room. He doesn’t even hear the roar of mech pulse fire as he makes a mad dash to the mech he’d soon pilot. He runs as fast as he can, climbs as fast as he can.

His thoughts race at a hundred miles a minute. He can’t think, he can’t breathe. He’s just running on instinct now. The flash of fire lights up the darkness and Yuuri can see Viktor’s mech valiantly defending him. The others are doing just the same, firing at They who try to get in the way in smaller machines. They go alight in flames.

_Just breathe. Do everything they taught you._

Yuuri’s hand slams against the back end of the mech. It opens and he climbs in. He’s clawing at the GPS tracker, fumbling nervous fingers working at it. He’s done this many times in training, so his knowledge makes up for his shaking hands. When he’s done it he grabs at the replacement hanging at his waist. A small disc. He pushes it into place, throws the old one backward, out into the unknown. It’d break.

Now came the part he’s had less experience with. He flips switches, he twists knobs. He straps himself in as tight as he can. The backend hatch closes. _He’s in the mech._ He flips the communication system on. It’s not online yet-- nothing but dead silence. He flips it off. The new system hadn’t installed quite yet.

He works at the switches and then finally grabs the steering handles. He presses the buttons for the arms, rotating them in circles. Check. The arms work.

Vaguely, he’s aware of the chaos. He can hear Them screaming, hear their alarms blaring. The lights are blinding. _He can’t see._ The hood on his suit is pulled up, visor coming down to dull the lights from Their base. It’s a carrier. There’s water on all sides.

He tries the communication system again. Panic sets in as it _still_ doesn’t work. What if he’d installed the new system incorrectly?

Fear is flooding in him, it’s crushing him. _No, no, no! I failed! I can’t fail!_

Yuuri isn’t aware that he’s screaming, that he’s nearly about to melt. The screeching creak of a tower on the ship is heard. Yuuri watches as part of it falls, it splits. A mech breaks from the surface. He can’t tell who it is, he can’t really think about that.

The others are lifting into the air, and he’s still not online. They have to make a break for it, the carrier is splitting and falling apart. He can feel his mech tilting, see the warnings come up on the front screen.

_I’m going to sink into the ocean._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers. Yes. It's something to get used to with me.


	3. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is curious on what the mechs look like, they're very similar to the design of D.Va's mech from Overwatch! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the kudos and comments, they inspire me to keep writing. I really hope you enjoy this next chapter!

_ Breathing in. Breathing out. I have to get the hang of doing that. A steady supply of oxygen is hard to come by these days. The Instructor seems pleased by my progress, very pleased. She says I’ll make a fine pilot, and that I’ll be in the skies and destroying our enemies in no time. _

_ If only she knew how much I hated her system. How I thought it was a prison. When I become a pilot there will be rules for me to follow and me alone. They won’t be able to stop me. What can they do? Only a dozen pilots wiped out nations. Imagine what one like me-- homegrown could do. _

_ It’s getting harder to hide these entries. I may have to stop for awhile. _

**Entry 3**

He didn’t even hear the sound of his stolen mech fall into the ocean. He only hears the dull woosh and the sound of the air being taken from his lungs. He hopes Viktor will forgive him for his failure. 

At least his mech fell with the pane of glass facing the sky so he could see the stars. It was slow, the descent into the depths. The sky he thought he’d never see glittered so beautifully above him. When he thinks about it, it’s not the worse last thing to see.

His gaze moves to the right. Oh. He’d pretty much forgotten about how Their carrier is going to sink to the bottom of the ocean as well. 

Inevitable death made the gears in his mind work. Albeit they had considerably slowed since his panic on board. It strikes him as odd that humans didn’t know what to call Them. They had showed up on this planet without even so much as offering identification as to what They were. He supposes it doesn’t matter in the end. Their plan had been to wipe out all of the humans.

Yuuri looks to the console slowly, furrowing his brows. Something caught his eye. How could he have not noticed before?

With fingers that move with languid smoothness, he pushes the disc into the console once more. The mech’s interface swallows it with a slow click and a whirring sound. With luck it isn’t too late.

He tries to flip the engine switch. It hums to life slowly. 

Yuuri’s mind goes back to when he first saw Viktor bring his mech to life. How had he done it? Without even realizing it, Yuuri’s fingers were gliding over the console, flicking switches up and down, pressing buttons gently. Finally he flicks the communication switch on.

The pandemonium and chaos of all the voices on board strike him so suddenly.

“Seventeen?!” Viktor’s voice, that accent is so distinct. “Seventeen, please, do you copy?”

“Twelve, he’s dead. He wasn’t able to get the mech online. It’s been ten minutes,” Yakov’s voice. “We have to carry on. Pilots die. It’s just how this world is. We must take what we have and go.”

“I will not let a pilot go that easy!” Viktor retorts sharply into the communication system.

“Twelve, we really should go,” Chris’s voice is much gentler. “We really can’t wait--”

“Seventeen,” Yuuri slurs the word, it comes out long and slow. He feels like he’s going to puke. “Online.”

The communications system goes dead. Not a word is said for a good minute. Yuuri is pulling his mech upward toward the surface. He has fallen farther than he thought he did.

“Repeat?” Yakov questions.

“Seventeen, alive,” Yuuri repeats. He sounds like he’s out of breath. That’s likely because his oxygen filters had only just come on. The red light was still blinking. “Conserving,” he adds before slowing his breathing.

“Well damn. You ended up making it. Better not be deadweight in the future,” Yuri’s cutting voice is the first to say something as it bites through the system. It doesn’t sting as much as it nearly should. 

“Coordinates linked to your system,” Yakov says. “Report to them as soon as possible.” There’s an unmistakable shock in his voice. Undoubtedly, Yakov is surprised that Yuuri managed to survive. 

And if he was being honest with himself, Yuuri can relate to that sentiment.

Yuuri, dazed and confused, looks to the map on the console. A blip pings for a moment. It is close. They hadn’t gone far. He breaks the surface of the ocean. The waves are rolling hard, and he’s left to bob like a buoy in the water as his oxygen reserves fill up. 

“Oxygen stable,” Yuuri says over the radio. It feels like this isn’t his body. Could this all just be a dream? Could he be laying on the ocean floor in pieces? “Heading to coordinates.” Does he even have time to think about that?

He guides the mech as he was trained to do from simulators in training. Except unlike the simulators, they only briefly touched what it was like to pilot a mech. 

Yuuri had ridden in one. He’d used the controls in one before. None of that compared to what it felt like now. He was as light as air, yet sturdy as steel. He feels invincible with the steering sticks in his hand. They melt to his touch just right, moving when he asks it to. It’s like nothing else he’s ever done before.

He arrives at the coordinates. It’s a small island with barely enough room for the mechs that landed there let alone Yuuri’s as well. Viktor’s mech, he can tell it’s his with its distinct black, red, and golden colors, moves to the side to make room.

Yuuri joins them.

“Are you ready to fly, Seventeen?” Yakov implores.

“One, he’s hardly had anytime to recuperate!” Viktor scolds over the radio.

“It’s fine, I’m okay. I’m ready to fly,” Yuuri says suddenly. He’s wracked with fatigue and wants nothing more than to curl up, but he’s still in that blissful haze of nothingness. He doesn’t want that to go away while he’s piloting.

“Mark three after me. Keep a close eye on Seventeen, I want him on the left wing behind me. Eleven, take the rear.” Yakov’s voice is all orders, no nonsense. The seriousness of the situation is a weight he bears heavily on his shoulders.

“Understood,” Georgi replies.

Rather than fly, they take the subtle approach. The pilots dive beneath the surface of the ocean to use as their cover. When the sun starts to come up halfway through their journey, Yuuri is captivated by the beauty. So many colors he’s never seen before. In the last day he’s seen more than a lifetime’s worth of things. He wonders why his parents kept all of this away from him.

They make it back without so much as a hiccup. It’s when Yuuri gets out of his mech when the problems start. 

It’s as if every bit of weight that had been on his shoulders landed on him all at once. Before he realizes, he’s on his back, watching everything go dark as others dash over. He sees Viktor’s face, worry creases at his brows. There are other figures behind him, but they’re only shadows. 

And then everything disappears.

\--

Viktor shakes Yuuri’s body several times, but the boy still doesn’t stir. His bloodshot eyes are rolled into the back of his head. His nose and chin is covered in dry blood, staining his teeth and lips with the liquid. A bruise is already turning dark purple on his forehead. 

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Can you hear me?” Viktor’s begging for an answer, one that he’ll never get. He puts his ear to Yuuri’s chest. The initial silence chills him to the core. A soft thump and he lets loose the breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding. 

Everyone is standing around, shuffling awkwardly, concern written on their faces as well. Viktor reaches over and takes off Yuuri’s broken glasses, folding them up and clutching them in his hand. 

“He’s breathing, and his heart’s working. Prepare a bed in the infirmary, Chris,” Viktor commands without taking his eyes off of the beaten and bruised boy. Chris nods and runs off, beckoning Georgi and Phichit to follow. 

Viktor can’t help but curse himself for not being more brazen in his opinions with Yakov. They should have never taken off with Yuuri in this condition. The boy pushed himself too hard and now his life may be at stake for it. 

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose when Otabek kneels down. Viktor’s eyes land on him, perplexed. The usually silent pilot for once opens his mouth, and they’re the first words Viktor hears from him. “I’ll carry him there, just lead the way,” Otabek speaks softly, curtly. Viktor can’t help but find himself stepping away from Yuuri’s body, trusting Otabek completely with the unconscious pilot. 

Viktor’s leading them down the hall, occasionally looking over his shoulder to check on Yuuri. Otabek’s face is neutral, he’s staring straight ahead. 

After Yuuri’s broken body is settled into a bed, Chris begins to work on tending to his wounds with the medical supplies they have available. Unlike most of the other things they have on hand from the government, their medical supplies are state of the art. They would deal with practically any injury. A dead pilot is a useless pilot, after all.

Viktor can finally breathe easy now that he knows Yuuri is in safe hands, but he can’t help feeling unnerved. It is as if eyes are watching him--boring into his back until there were holes burned there. Viktor turns on his heel, peering until his eyes locked on Yakov’s.

Yakov doesn’t need to say anything to the silver haired pilot as the boy saunters over and out of the room. 

There is a silence between the senior pilot and Viktor as they walk through the halls. They take a winding right turn, all the way past the first floor of rooms. Yakov opens the door at the very end of the hall, holding the it for Viktor to step through.

The lanky boy does, holding his head high as he walks into the furnished office bedroom. 

Yakov shuts the door and locks it behind them. He pushes past Viktor, taking a seat behind a metal desk with many drawers. He makes a gesture for Viktor to sit, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in the squeaky chair.

“Viktor,” Yakov’s tone is warning. “Take a seat, boy.”

Reluctantly, Viktor does, pulling a chair out and slowly lowering himself into the seat. “You know I don’t like to sit down before the other pilots do,” he says, clearly irritated by the command as he threads his fingers through silky silver hair.

“Yes, you do care a great deal for the other pilots,” Yakov comments. He’s shaking his head. “In fact I brought you in here to talk about that specifically.” Yakov reaches to pull out a bottle and a glass from his desk, already pouring a drink. He pours another for Viktor, pushing the glass over to him. 

Viktor narrows his eyes, if only slightly. But the message is clear. He has no intention on drinking it. Yakov merely shrugs at him.

“You are infatuated with the new pilot. Seventeen.”

“His name is Yuuri,” Viktor corrects him. “And it’s not infatuation.”

Yakov cocks an eyebrow, raising his glass to his lips and taking a gulp of the strong smelling drink. “I’m not sure what else to call it, Viktor. Don’t think I am not watching what you do and how you act. If you’re going to be the leader of these pilots after I fall in battle then you must not play favorites. None of them will be able to take you seriously if you pander to one over all.”

“Then what would you call this meeting between you and I, Yakov? You haven’t even told Georgi that you intend to leave me in command,” Viktor retorts in a nonchalant manner that makes Yakov grit his teeth. “I will lead how I see fit, and I see fit to know my pilots. If I want to play to our strengths and solidify our weaknesses I must learn more about them.” Viktor is able to keep oddly calm, despite the message behind his words. It is a very clear slap in the face.

“Vitya, you know you are very much like a son to me, but I can’t let you think like that. I care for each of you individually but equally.”

“Then why do you care so much to pick at me?” Viktor asks, genuinely curious.

“Because I intend for you to succeed me. You don’t know the burdens that being commander has. Your group of pilots are not the first I’ve led. You have a heavy destiny awaiting you, boy. It is a path that not even your fellow pilots will be able to just experience. It’s a job that you must do alone.” Yakov takes another swig of his drink. 

The grave feelings in his words making his eyes flash with what Viktor knows are memories. Viktor knows all too well about memories. 

Yakov leans over the desk to put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “You will want pilots that you can depend on. When the time comes, you will see what I mean, Viktor. I’ve done all I can for you. Feel free to go.”

His words run off of Viktor like water as the teen stands, making his way to the door. He undoes the lock, opening it and making his way down the hall. He’s nearly to the kitchen when he hears noise. The others are in the common room, lounging around on sofas. Viktor looks around at each of them, leaning into the open door frame. He smiles fondly at them. Some are playing the few board games they have, others are reading quietly. 

“Where’s Chris?” Viktor asks, not finding his face among the group.

“He’s with Yuuri right now. He sent me and the others away because he said Yuuri would be fine. He said that Yuuri will need to be watched over for a bit, though,” Phichit answers all too quickly. His knees are up to his chest as he waits for his turn in the game.

“Oh. Thank you.” He felt a bit dumb for asking a question with an obvious answer. “Georgi,” he prompts.

“Hm?” Georgi grunts, lowering the book he was holding in his hands. 

“In an hour make sure everyone has a good meal. A reward for mission success,” Viktor says as he straightens up. Georgi merely shrugs and nods. Even he isn’t one to turn down food.

Meanwhile Viktor shuffles back down the long hallway. He enters the infirmary. It’s a small room with four beds and decent lighting compared to the other rooms at this outpost. Yuuri is resting in one of the beds, looking a lot better now that the blood has been cleaned off of his face and his wounds tended to.

“How is he, Chris?” Viktor asks, taking a seat beside Chris on the bed opposite of Yuuri’s resting body.

“He’ll sleep for a long while. I set him up on a drip. He must have hit his head hard when his mech toppled over into the ocean,” Chris explains. His eyes don’t leave the resting boy’s face, which is somewhat contorted in pain as he rolls over on the hospital cot.

“I’ll watch over him,” Viktor offers, glancing at Chris.

Chris’s green eyes go wide as he turns to Viktor. “If something were to happen I am the only one here who can handle that kind of crisis.”

“If that happens I’ll ping you. You’re exhausted, hungry, tired. You’ve worked without a break since getting back here. The others are relaxing, you should be as well. I won’t allow you to stress yourself too much. We’ve already been through enough tonight,” Viktor says as he places on hand on Chris’s shoulder. 

Chris gnaws at his bottom lip. He seems to mull over the idea for several long seconds. All the while Viktor is waiting patiently. “Oh Viktor, you do have a way with your words,” Chris admits. He wraps his arms around the other pilot.

Viktor gently pats Chris’s back, and the blond seems to be relieved of all of the tension. “I try my best,” Viktor chimes, ruffling Chris’s hair as they break apart. “Now go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll watch over Yuuri.”

Chris dips his head in a nod as he stands, placing his hand against his chest in a stiff salute. 

Viktor just smiles, nods, and watches Chris leave the room. As soon as he’s gone, Viktor lets his eyes float to Yuuri’s battered figure. “I wonder what went wrong,” Viktor murmurs. After all, Yuuri’s mech couldn’t have functioned like that without some sort of flaw. He wonders how Yuuri solved it. How did he look death in the face and defy it?

The curiosity tears at his mind like a wild animal. He wants so badly to satisfy his questions. How did this seemingly weak-minded pilot triumph? Viktor knew that he saw something in Yuuri before--The desire to protect him from succumbing to the cruelty that was being a pilot. 

In truth, Yuuri reminds him of how he used to be. When he qualified he was confused, scared, and alone. It hurt to leave behind everyone he loved. It hurt to see that they didn’t try harder to keep him.

Viktor has always been fairly great at reading other people. His quick ability to analyze a situation has saved his life more times than he can count. It’s also the sole reason for how he was able to take the position of future commander from Georgi. 

A sudden movement from Yuuri tears Viktor out of his thoughts. For a second he’s hopeful. Maybe he is waking up?

That hope is crushed as soon as Yuuri lets out a shaky breath, shivering and panting in his comatose state as he rolls over. 

Viktor sighs, standing up and sitting on Yuuri’s bed. The sleeping pilot doesn’t stir, and the tension in Viktor’s shoulders leave. He looks down at his hands and realize he’s still holding Yuuri’s broken glasses. The glass is shattered. He hopes that the other will still be able to see without them. Impaired vision could be a death sentence.

He unfolds them in his hands, daring to try them on. It makes him tear up, and he’s blinking rapidly as he takes them off a second after he puts them on. If that’s what Yuuri sees, Viktor isn’t so sure the other will last long. 

Hours pass by in relative silence as Viktor watches over Yuuri’s unconscious body. He’d had his fun toying with the glasses for the first few minutes, but after some time he’d chosen to set them on the bedside table. Yuuri still hadn’t stirred, but his breathing seemed less labored and the pained look straining his expression had softened.

Viktor doesn’t even realize when he’s fallen asleep in the bed beside Yuuri’s. It happened so quickly-- One moment he is watching over his comrade and the next he’s drifting off himself. 

Unfortunately his dreams are not peaceful. 

They never are.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed. It's a great way to keep a writer going. I look forward to writing more for Viktor!


	4. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading so far! Your comments and kudos inspire me to keep writing and keep trying. I know things are a little confusing so far, but I promise all will eventually be cleared up in the future.

Yuuri sucks in air as if he is starved for it, his eyes opening wide with shock. He does not know where he is, or what has happened to him. Desperately, he claws around, feeling his surroundings. His vision is blurred. Where are his glasses?

Squinting, he peers around the room for the familiar blurry shape. His hand pats at on top of the night stand, and his fingers brush against the metallic frames. With fumbling hands he unfolds them, slipping them onto his face and peering around the room. There’s a crack in the right frame, which isn’t a big deal. But the left frame is practically shattered. It’s better than being blind, so he settles.

Blinking, he hadn’t noticed that there was something his glasses were laid on top of. He grabs it, flipping it over. It’s a book of sorts, with a leather binding and paper that has yellowed from time. There’s no title or an author’s name, which doesn’t quell his curiosity.

He looks around the room, searching for someone who may have left it behind. When he finds no one, not a thing, he decides to open it. The very first words capture him.

\--

My mother always thought that I kept a lot of secrets. She and I are a lot of like--that was her reasoning for knowing. That is also how I came to own a journal. She said when she was a little girl she had one to keep her secrets locked in. I think she worked really hard to surprise me on my usually uneventful birthday. 

“Viktor, this is a place where you can keep your secrets. You can let them out, keep yourself safe. No one will ever find them,” she told me. So I let out every little thought that came to mind.

No one really knows what it is like to live close to the surface. Except those that actually live there. I know that for a fact because I have no idea what it is like to live deep in the earth. My thoughts are that it’s probably safer down there. Not like here, where the chaos above ground sometimes causes us all to go really quiet.

My first blackout I was really young, too young to remember how old I was. I remember my mother hushing me, covering my mouth with her hand as something wailed like the dead above us. The earth shook. I could hear rocks and pebbles crack against the roof of our home. There was no light. Nothing. I couldn’t see my own hands. It’s as if I were displaced. 

In the dark I felt as if I didn’t exist. My body would go numb, as if little needles were stabbing me all over. The dark has a way of creating things that weren’t real. It plays tricks on the mind and makes nightmares into reality.

I’m afraid of the dark.

No--not just afraid. It horrifies me. 

I became fascinated with finding all the light I could, going so far as to make my own fire by my bedside when we were in blackouts by using dried tree roots as a fuel source. It was against the rules. My mother and father could get in a lot of trouble if I was ever caught. So I kept the flame small, just enough to let me see my hands. Just enough to let me know I was still there.

They came frequently when I was younger, but they grew further and further apart as time went on. I played a lot with my flames when the dark came. Tree roots were not in a short supply this close to the surface. I wondered a lot about what they looked like from the surface. I hoped I wasn’t hurting them. Each time I shaved off a little of their roots into my school bag with a pocket knife I felt as if I should apologize. I never did, though. I didn’t want anyone to hear me and question it.

I hope I never have to be in the dark again.

\--

Yuuri is hesitant to flip another page, to invade another word of  _ Viktor’s _ innermost thoughts. It’s so very wrong, but the story enthralled him. It took him in and held him close. It made his heart pang for those that were unfortunate enough to live close to the surface. Whoever wrote this was right. He had no idea what life near the surface is like. The short glimpse he gets is enough to make him burn in sympathy.

It’s as if the story made his headache disappear, because he doesn’t feel any pain pulsing at his temples. The cracks in his glasses don’t even bother him anymore.

Against all of his better judgement, he turns the page. The familiarity of it makes him suck in air sharply and cover his mouth in shock.

\--

Everyone knows that as soon as you turn twelve years old, a real feat for a near surface child, you’re tested to become a pilot. People like me never end up as pilots. We’re slaves to the government, after all. The products we make for far away communities for so little in return are much more valuable than a mech pilot. They already knew that humanity would never regain the surface from Them. Or at least, I had given up hope.

So when I was pulled into a large, run down building but a handful of government officials I had no worries. The government prefers me to work until my back breaks, literally, or until I die from a crippling illness. I would never qualify.

The officials, a man and a woman who both wore really stiff, gray suits and the same bland expression on their faces read over the basis of the test. I could tell that they thought this was as much of a waste of time as I did.

“You will be tested on five key components. Physical strength, mental strength, resourcefulness, intellect, and coordination. Just relax and act as you normally would,” They explained in a monotonous tone. They must have become so bored of saying the same thing for what must have been hundreds of times. 

The unlocked a door. I didn’t really see the point in locking it in the first place, though. All it took was a really good push and someone could get in easily. I didn’t mention that to them, though. 

My heart dropped in my stomach when they grabbed me by my arms so suddenly. Their grips were iron around my scrawny arms. My heart pounded in my chest, as if there were a stampede of rioting workers running about in my rib cage. I struggled, yelping and kicking and  _ screaming _ for them to just let me go. They held on, tossing me into some sort of contraption. 

That was the last thing I remembered from whatever happened. I don’t even know how I was tested. I thought it’d be something silly, something like me lifting weights and when they saw how much of a runt I was they’d just give up on me and toss me back home by the scruff of my neck.

What I didn’t expect was to wake up and find out that I  _ qualified. _

It is considered a great honor for any family that has a child who qualifies for the Mech Program. Parents are supposed to look on with pride. Mine did not do well to conceal whatever they felt as I was pulled away from their side after I qualified. I knew that it wasn’t pride in their eyes, but worry.

How could I possibly be a pilot? They didn’t say it out loud, but I knew that’s what they thought. They weren’t wrong to think it.

After all, I’m nothing extraordinary. I didn’t come from a blue blood family whose children were nearly all qualifiers. I lived in the Slums--the heavily polluted area of the underground city closest to the surface where the average life expectancy was forty or lower. I basically lived half of my life already at age twelve. Children like me did not qualify for the Mech Program. 

Yet they still dragged me away, kicking and screaming as I reached out to desperately grasp for my mother’s touch. She flinched away. That was the first time my heart broke. I decided I’d never let anyone hurt me like that again--I’m not sure if I could handle it.

Her face won’t leave my head. I know I’ll dream of it tonight.

\-- 

Yuuri bites his lower lip. He remembers his family’s own expressions. They seemed so proud of him, smiling and happy that their son is going to be a pilot. Their son is a hero. He has other siblings, his older sister who didn’t qualify seemed wracked with envy. 

He feels a sudden, uncomfortable prickle. It’s as if all of the hairs on the back of his neck decided to stand up. He turns to look over his shoulder and drops the journal with wide eyes and his mouth gaping. He’s sweating and chill is running up and down his spine as his eyes meet with none other than Viktor Nikiforov’s.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Viktor says softly. It’s impossible for Yuuri to tell how he’s feeling. He seems so even, so calm. He’s as still as the underground lake near Yuuri’s old home.

“I-I-I,” Yuuri stutters, scrambling for the words. The journal is laying flat on the floor, still open. 

Viktor’s gaze slowly lowers to the floor. He’s staring at the open journal. His lips are in a line.

“I shouldn’t have left that in here,” Viktor murmurs, barely audible as he nibbles at his lower lip pensively. He glances at Yuuri. “How much of it did you read?”

“I-I-,” Yuuri still couldn't gather his thoughts. This journal,  _ Viktor’s _ journal. He should have stopped reading it-No, he should have never opened it in the first place. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice is soft. “It’s okay. It’s my fault for leaving it laying around. It’s not a big deal,” he says reassuringly. His hand finds his way to Yuuri’s hair, tangling in the black locks of hair. He twists the strands around his fingers.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri finally apologizes, his cheeks are burning with embarrassment. 

Viktor lets out a small snort of laughter, his lips curling just the slightest in a smile. “It’s fine, Yuuri. You’re just going to have to repay me.”

Yuuri’s stomach does a flip and he swallows a lump in his throat. “How am I going to do that?” He asks. Of course he’s sorry, and the least he can do is pay Viktor back somehow. Even if it’s doing the awful chores around the compound for a period of time.

“Well first, I’m going to have to have you vow to keep what you read a secret. That journal doesn’t even exist, okay?” Viktor says, tapping a finger against his chin. Yuuri bobs his head in a nod, which makes his smile grow. “Second of all, I’m going to have ask to know more about you. You know me pretty well, after all from what you’ve read. Those are my innermost thoughts. Pretty rude that you’d intrude on them like that.”

Yuuri’s gaping again, his eyes wide. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. Nothing serious? No fighting or anything? He just wants to get to know him? “For real?” He finds himself asking. 

Viktor stops twisting at Yuuri’s hair, humming. “Mhm. You’ve been asleep for awhile, you know. Some of us were worried that you wouldn’t wake up again. I wasn’t one of those people. It was only a matter of time.”

“How long has it been?” 

“A month. Give or take a few days. Chris told me I should return to my own room in case someone needs one of the beds here. I’m not really one for listening to others.”

Yuuri can hardly believe his ears.  _ A whole month?  _ This couldn’t be real. How could he have been asleep for a whole month? His jaw is slack in shock again, and he’s grabbing at his face in disbelief. 

Viktor tilts his head to the side. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It happens, sometimes.”

How Viktor sees this as just some casual, minor thing is beyond Yuuri. Being in a coma for a month is serious. Yuuri falls back against the bed, his head smacking against his pillow hard enough to make his vision spin. He’s not used to being awake, after all. He hasn’t been awake for a month. That fact is still surreal to him.

“Ah, are you okay, Yuuri?” Viktor says with a yelp, blue eyes going wide as Yuuri fell back against the pillows. 

_ Is he even real? _ Yuuri asks himself, bewildered.

Viktor leans over Yuuri, their eyes meeting. He’s as curious as a cat, tilting his head to the side as silver hair hangs off down like a curtain. Yuuri can feel his face heating up, the closeness of Viktor was a little too much for his own comfort. Yuuri swallows the lump in his throat, averting his gaze from Viktor’s.

Viktor scrunches his face up, curling his nose. “You need a bath.”

“What?” Yuuri snaps, blinking rapidly.

“Chris said he had given you baths but I don’t think he did a good enough job,” Viktor commented as he tapped his chin. He’s staring Yuuri down, nodding every now and then thoughtfully. “Not to worry, I’ll help!” 

“W-wait, no,” Yuuri stammers as Viktor scoops him up from out of the bed. 

“Wow, you lost a lot of weight just laying here. I’ll help you bulk up again. Maybe we’ll get JJ to help too, he’s as ruthless as the Instructor from pre-training when it comes to working out.” 

Yuuri is content on using Viktor as a crutch when they walk to the common room an hour or so later. 

As soon as Chris sees the two, he’s running over and checking on Yuuri, scolding Viktor about not calling him over. There’s a huge crowd forming around them, and all Yuuri wants to do is disappear. He has never gotten this much attention before, not since his parents first got the news about his qualification to be a pilot. The entire family came over to celebrate before he left for training.

Yuuri can’t help but feel a twist in his stomach as he remembers that that wasn’t what had happened for Viktor. 

“Right, Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice is close to his ear, and Yuuri feels himself flush with embarrassment at having missed what the other had just said.

“Wha?” 

“I was just telling Chris that you seem pretty much fine now. Aside from balance issues. You actually made it out pretty fine!”

Chris eyes Yuuri suspiciously, scrutinizing over the fading bruises and dependence on Viktor to keep him upright.

“Oh, uh. Mhm. I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy,” he responds. It isn’t exactly a lie, though it is definitely not the full truth. “I’m a bit hungry,” Yuuri adds.

Chris raises an eyebrow skeptically at Yuuri. “I recommend he doesn’t eat solid foods.” His gaze travels to Viktor, who seems to have taken over the role as Yuuri’s caretaker. “It could upset his stomach. He’s been on a drip after all, it’ll take some time for him to get used to eating regularly again.”

Viktor waves a hand dismissively at Chris. “No problem, I’ve got this.”

Chris narrows his eyes, puffing his lips out in a small pout. “If you need my help, I’m right here.”

It turns out that Chris is right and that any kind of food in general would upset Yuuri’s stomach. Even the soft powder and mix with water potatoes were enough to make his insides twist with discomfort. Viktor is there to help him, keeping his hair back as he lets it all out into a bucket five minutes after.

He spends a lot of time telling Viktor about his history. He talks about his home in the gardens of the mid center, where children went to school every day for a future that was not preordained. 

Viktor listened intently, giving Yuuri his undivided attention. It mesmerized the senior pilot. It was nice to imagine what life would be like deeper below the surface. When Yuuri describes the underground lake, it’s truly wonderful. Viktor had never seen clear water before he arrived at the surface. Any water was grimy and had to go through a long process of cleaning before it became drinkable, which was often a daunting task done by the those who dwelled there. It made Yuuri uncomfortable how terrible Viktor’s life had been. He could hardly believe those closest to the surface were treated so terribly. It made him feel awful about the near surface made goods he used regularly back home.

Besides that, Viktor asks much more simple questions. He asks about if Yuuri had a crush on anyone, to which Yuuri shakes his head profusely with a dark blush on his face. The whole thing is endearing to Viktor, who learns that Yuuri is easily embarrassed fairly quickly into their newfound friendship.

One day Viktor asks Yuuri when he’s birthday is.

He learns that Yuuri’s birthday is on November twenty-ninth, and that he is seventeen years old. A silly coincidence given his number. Though it wouldn’t be for much longer. The leaves outside are beginning to change, a sign of winter’s coming. 

“I promise that when you’re birthday comes we’ll do something fun,” Viktor vows, ruffling Yuuri’s black locks of hair with an excited smile on his face. 

In darker moments, Yuuri learns that Viktor has a deep rooted dislike for the government. It’s not as if Yuuri was shocked by this, Viktor’s life was not made easy by them. The nights where he’s most upset they share the hospital infirmary together. The lights are always on. Viktor can’t sleep without them. It’s not as if it’s a big deal to Yuuri, he hardly sleeps anyway. On those nights he mostly watches over Viktor as he sleeps, sometimes fitfully. 

The healing process is easy thanks to Viktor’s company and soon enough Yuuri’s back into his old room. The worst part about it is that Viktor is not as close as he was. Yuuri does his best to keep himself distracted by training diligently with JJ and the others. It helps, though he’s constantly fretting about getting yelled at over and over by Yuri Plisetsky. He can’t help but reminded of the Instructor when he hears the blond’s sharp voice crack like the lash of a baton.

Viktor continues to distances himself as time goes on. Yuuri can’t help but worry that he had done something wrong, or that the senior pilot had gotten tired of dealing with him. He did understand that Viktor has an important position that took a lot of his attention away from Yuuri.

Yet some small part of him, or rather a very large part of him as the black haired teen just couldn’t manage to get an awful thought out of his head once it worked itself into place, worried that Viktor used him. Could Viktor have only been nice to him simply because he thought Yuuri would tell someone about his secret journal?

The question bothers him so much that he goes to Viktor’s door in the middle of sleeping hours. He’s rocking on his toes, standing in front of the door. At times he bites on his nails, anxious as he gazes down the empty hall. He knocks again, and again. 

_ Please, Viktor. _

The door at the end of the hall opens and Yuuri’s eyes grow wide with shock as he shields himself from the sudden light.

“Viktor isn’t here,” Yakov’s gruff voice bites in the silent hallway. “Quit making such a ruckus, these are sleeping hours. You should be in your room.”

“Oh, um. Sorry… Where is Viktor?” Yuuri asks softly.

Yakov’s jaw tenses with frustration, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s on a mission. Didn’t he tell you? Hell, I’m not sure how you didn’t know. The other Yuri has been raving about it for awhile now. They took Christophe with them. It’s a supply run. They won’t be back for a few days. Now go get some sleep.”

A chill runs down his spine and he feels like his heart is dropping as Yakov’s door is shut. It echoes throughout the hallway, leaving Yuuri to just stand there in its wake. The silence is almost too much for him. Had Viktor forgotten that his birthday was close? Was his promise nothing but a lie?

Did any of their time together mean something to Viktor? Had Yuuri been imagining the truthfulness in Viktor’s laughter and smiles? 

Did Viktor lie?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the journal bit cleared up some things. This won't be the last you see of it. :)


End file.
